Post by lucasbalkan on Jun 8, 2020 5:15:17 GMT -5
Did you know I’m married?
I mean, it’s not a real marriage per se. More an administrative act of mutual convenience. What do you get when you combine an immigrant who is concerned about his ability to stay in the country long term and his work colleague who feels the need to hide her true sexuality in the face of pressure from her, frankly, fundamentalist Christian family… It’s not quite happily ever after. However, it is the ultimate marriage of convenience.
Like all true romances of the 21st century, we met in some bar. Of course, neither of us were there for romance nor to drown all our cares in the world. No, it was another of the crap jobs that formed part of my existence between my spells in SFT. It was a sort of middling bar. It wasn’t fancy but it wasn’t exactly a dive bar. It’s the sort of place where you need to be dressed kind of classy to get in in the first place but the behaviour inside is far from classy. Kadi was a waitress who worked there full time, something like 60 hours a week. I was working as security, something much more suited to my levels of diplomacy than craving star ratings in an Uber. There were not many staff but of the 20 or so that worked there, we were the only two people who weren’t white. I guess it made us both notice each other.
Having said that, we didn’t talk. In fact, I barely talked to anyone. Until one September evening. I was switching posts with another security guy, moving from the front door to nearer the bar itself, when I heard and saw some noise. Kadi was there, batting away the wandering hands of some lecherous drunk, but he did not appear to be relenting. I walked over, brushing others out the way, in time to hear a stream of verbal abuse that would make a docker blush. This grey-haired, fat bastard unleashed a barrage at Kadi that managed to be racist, sexist and homophobic all in one. Just because she didn’t want her ass felt by some Alex Trebek looking motherfucker. I was furious, I could feel myself burning with rage. I pulled him to his feet and started dragging him towards the back door. He seemed outraged and resisted a little, so I twisted his arm behind his back. He resisted a little more so I twisted more. Pretty sure I felt his wrist crack. He howled and didn’t resist any more. He won’t be groping anyone with that hand for a while. I booted him into the alley and he scampered away, a mixture of indignant and terrified.
I turned round and Kadi was already in the alley lighting a cigarette. She looked calm, a lot calmer than I felt.
“Are you okay?”
It was the first time we’d spoken and I blurted the question out in a way that seemed more like a accusation than concern. She took a draw of her cigarette, exhaled, and smiled at me.
“It happens most days. It’s just not usually as obvious. It comes with the territory.”
“Yeah, but just because you’re black doesn’t…”
She stopped me.
“Black. And a woman. And a lesbian. Believe me, the abuse comes with the territory. From sleazy drunks to kids on the block, from other women to my family… I get it most days. I can handle it.”
Ah. I see. I nodded and patted her on the shoulder as I walked back into the building. We got talking a little more from there on out, starting to share stories and experiences of being different. She was from Alabama, moved here to study but dropped out of college. Now she was trying to make money to pay back debts and send money back to her family. They were more concerned with religion than work and even though “God will provide”, Kadi was still sending a lot of her salary back to them. As I got to know her more, I realised how strong she was. Not physically, necessarily, but mentally. Here was someone facing abuse from all angles, day after day, and taking it in her stride. Providing for a family that didn’t care enough to know the real her. Like I said from the outset, this isn’t a romance and when the subject of marriage arose, it wasn’t some Disney or Hallmark moment with one of us on one knee.
Her parents were applying more and more pressure on her to get married, to move back to Alabama if she had to - they’d find her a good Christian man. She told me that she couldn’t go back, she couldn’t hide who she was. Maybe I could marry her? You know, just for show? I wasn’t sure how that would help. I’m not a good Christian man. However, that didn’t seem to matter. She explained how it would benefit her and then, quietly, suggested how it would also help me. She’d heard me moan about the frustration of visa extensions and the potential of having to leave the country eventually.
I’m not a romantic. Far from it. I’ve been in love with one person in my life and they betrayed me. However, when something comes along that is so mutually beneficial… I hear wedding bells!
So, we got married quickly. I guess before either of us changed our mind. I was added to the lease at Kadi’s apartment but I didn’t move in. We had photos of our wedding, of our “first dates” and time together that was all sent away in my application for a Green Card. Her mother, a God-fearing Christian, made her peace with the marriage and my not being a Christian. I guess she felt that Kadi was converting me… We made sure that we took some photographs every now and again, proof for those interested in our marriage… her family and the US border authorities… I got my Green Card and Kadi has a partner now, comfortable to be who she really is in New York. Just putting on the act the one time she’s been back to visit her family in Alabama. I just so happened to be “working” that weekend.
She still faces the abuse. Not so much from the family - although they do interrogate her about her lack of children in a way they don’t her brothers - but she takes it in her stride. Stengthened by knowing that she is being herself and she is helping me to be myself. She’s the reason I’m here, I guess.
In fact, there have been two strong women in my life who have contributed to my being here. Kadi, obviously, as if we were not married I may not still be in the country to be wrestling for SFT again. The other was my mother who, all those years ago, told me to run and not look back. Sometimes, when I see wrestlers and other personalities, parade their wives and girlfriends like trophies, I think about both of these women. Neither of them would accept being a prop for anyone else. I love them both but neither are a real part of my life now.
And here we are, in the Lethal Lottery, that I come face to face with another two strong women. Two women who are not props of others or defined solely by a husband, a boyfriend or a partner. Sadly, that still seems to be the default in many parts of our world. Both in the wrestling world and beyond. Whether it is female wrestlers being paired as male wrestlers “valets” despite their own talents in the ring, women being used solely to talk up men or successful women still being defined by their partner of their children. George Clooney’s wife, Amal, is given more prominence for, well, being his wife than her glittering international career as a human rights lawyer… Well, I guess she wasn’t in ER…
No, the world isn’t fair and it holds some of us back. Some more than others. There is a spiders web of barriers and issues that people face. I face some of them but far from all. Others face more. To rise above these barriers, well, that is worth celebrating. While it has been some time, I’ve wrestled women in SFT before. I recall an Alicia O’Toole from my first spell here. In fact, I think I won a title from her. In fact, I heard that Mya Denton held the SFT world title while I was away from the company, in 2018. There are plenty of successful women in the wrestling world, but it’s still, unfortunately, an exception rather than the rule.
So, I would be doing you a disservice if I did not also mention you, Cassandra.
A former intercontinental champion, a former hardcore champion… You are clearly a force to be reckoned with. It would be foolish of either myself or Robert Saints to dismiss your threat to us and our places in the next round of the Lethal Lottery tournament. I believe you are married but, truth be told, I know more about you than your husband. You are, after all, your own woman. I know that you are a mother. I have nothing to say about young Sevyn, he seems a surprisingly well adjusted child for the son of wrestlers. We’re not always the most stable individuals.
Stability is something that you appear to have in abundance though. Husband, son, nice house, housekeeper…
Must be nice. You see, even though we both seem to drift and out of SFT, I don’t have the same. Sure, I have a wife, technically. But it’s not quite the same, right? No, I’ve struggled both financially and mentally since leaving SFT in 2018. I’ve worked all these crappy jobs and fought to keep myself from imploding in rage. I came back not because I wanted to but because I had to. I needed to channel all the rage and all the hurt towards something. And I needed to get paid for something that I didn’t completely hate.
What does all this mean Cassandra? It means that we are approaching the Lethal Lottery differently. You’d like to win. I need to win. I need to take advantage of the opportunities that I get as I don’t know when they will be my last. Someone who needs something will be willing to go further than someone who wants it, Cassandra.
Candace. I must admit, when we were drawn against each other I scratched my head a little. Usually, here, I know who everyone is and I can well prepare myself. For you, this was impossible. I asked a friend for help. She told me about ICW and your success there. In fact, I actually tuned in a little this past week. Although I did not see you, I did see a rambling, red-headed woman yelling about you. I didn’t quite catch her name but she was Irish or something? She seemed to be furious and yelled inanely about how you hate America, Candace.
Well, that’s interesting, I thought.
I was intrigued and tried to find out more about this firebrand anti-American but, well, I couldn’t. I couldn’t find any reference to you hating America anywhere. Then it hit me. Muslim.
That’s it, right? That’s the dog whistle she’s blowing. Because of the religion of your parents and your background, you must think and do things a certain way...
Well, that’s a crock of horseshit and makes as much sense as ICW playing the role of creepy voyeur as Miss Misplaced Rage and her, ahem, eccentric boyfriend spend a few minutes of “quality time” together...
As-salamu alaykum, Candace.
Or Selamun Alejkem, as they said where I was born. You see, I think we probably have more in common than you realise. And probably more so than anyone else in SFT or ICW. We’ve both moved from Muslim communities as children, both settled in non-Muslim countries, both found mixed martial arts and wrestling as an escape. It’s like staring into a mirror. Kind of.
You see, while you still wear the niqab and talk about His will, I turned my back on that a long, long time ago. In fact, staring at myself in an actual mirror, through the cigarette smoke in this crap excuse for an apartment in New York, I don’t see the Muslim I was. I just see the man I am now, the result of a litany of very non-pious decisions and actions. You were adopted and raised by other people of the book, while I bounced from one disastrous and immoral situation to another until I was old enough to know better and look out for myself. And here I am. Religion is a support, a crutch, for many people. It supports you when you need it and it provides you a moral code to live by. I don’t have a moral code anymore Candace.
I just do what I need to do and that is what makes me dangerous.
Arundhati Roy said that “a new world is not only possible, she is on her way”. I agree. I don’t just want change, I need it. I need to reshape this company, this industry, this world in my image. When I do, the new world will be full of opportunities for strong women like you both, as well as strong men.
However, we are not there yet and, unfortunately, you both must fall at this stage to help to clear the way.
